


Janitor Papers

by ThePurple_Night



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Depression, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Gore, Implied/Referenced Murder, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Original Character(s), Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:14:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28929354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePurple_Night/pseuds/ThePurple_Night
Summary: When asked to write their stories, the Janitor did not hesitated to grab sandpapers and squid ink. However, nobody knew what they’ll write. And they would never will, You, however, can. If you dare.
Kudos: 2





	1. “No One is Clean”

“ _Everyone is born with dirt and blood on their hands. No matter how much you scrub your arms and legs, the dirt blood comes back up. So you might as well live with the blood you cause. I know I have my fair share of dirt and blood. I’ve hurt my papá so much, and it was months after my mamá passed away._

_ ‘ **Eres todo lo que me queda de tu mamá.** ’ _

_ He says. And man, I hurt him so much, emotionally. He knows that I’m not like mamá, but he couldn’t help but see her through my eyes. I don’t blame him. I would’ve done the same._

_ After months of my mother’s passing, mi papá and some of my relatives moved to New Mexico. With all the money we have left, we paid for everything. And end up with almost nothing with in the new house. I only had was my knitted quilt and a stitched up bunny doll. My dad was hired as a factory worker in a company that sells paper towels made out of sandpaper and flowers, and all he makes is peanuts and nickels. The Economy wasn’t very active for us, so I resorted to get a job at a school as a janitor trainee. _

_ For a school with so many teachers, it was also struggling with money, so the janitor paid half of what he had; which was 5 dollars. But he taught me what others couldn’t. _

_ He taught me about each cleaning product, the secret shortcuts janitors use, how to leave everything spotless, and the basics of ABCs and 123s. I will forever be grateful for his teachings. _

_ Now, why am I writing this? Why the hell am I writing about everyone having some sort of dark secrets lying on their hands? Isn’t it obvious? I have a dark secret that I live with. _

_ I killed someone, cleaned up the evidence and walked out like I’ve just done some room service. _

_ Yeah. That’s exactly what I done. I will elaborate this on the next time I write. It’s very late and I need to wake early for breakfast and a phone call with papá. _

_ \- The Janitor.” _

As they placed their pen down, they let out a tiny yawn. They were completely exhausted from days of doing janitor things for a military group that are filled with types of criminals. And Bun was no exception. They are indeed a criminal, but no one seemed to disbelieve that statement. With their calm and quiet attitude, the only thing they considered them was just “A janitor that cleans, cooks, and shops for them.”. And they are slightly right, but they don’t care.

While they folded the paper and placed in their first envelope, they heard a knock on the door. They quickly sealed the envelope and labeled it as “#1”. They got up, put their mask on, and opened the door just a little bit for whoever was at the other, can only see half of their face, “Can I help you?” They said, their tone of their voice sounded grey. 

They noticed that it was the Engineer. At least he was a pleasant sight. “Sorry to wake you Bun,” He said, “But Demoman just threw up on the bathroom floor, and I really gotta use it.”

And there goes the pleasant sight. Bun internally sighed as they rubbed their eyes, “Okay, I’ll clean it.” They replied as they closed the door. “Thanks partner!” He said as Bun quietly hid the envelope in their desk before grabbing their trusty Mop and Bucket; Monica and Billy.

As they left their room, a small picture of two little girls fell off their desk by the slight breeze. The photo has some childish writing saying “Sandy <3 Sol BFFS Forever” in some pink glitter ink.


	2. "Dirty Handiwork"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ** content warning **  
> When asked to write their stories, the Janitor did not hesitate to grab sandpapers and squid ink. However, nobody knew what they’ll write. And they would never will, You, however, can. If you dare.

" _I've worked with men like the ones I'm with right now. They're almost so similar, but not 100%. But I noticed the similarities between them: we're criminals of some sort. And I'm no exception, which is why I was hired back in this place after what happened to the previous place. Now, from my previous papers, I've mentioned how I killed someone. I know, coming from someone who worked with other criminals isn't that much of a big deal, but that doesn't matter. Why? Because nobody knew except his own bloodline. I could be overreacting and making this unnecessarily a big deal, but as I said, no one, and I mean NO ONE knows that it was me. And it should stay like that for as long as I breathe._ _Now, back to the point, I murder someone. It was my friend's uncle._

_Here's the boring backstory:_

_When I was still in school, I had this friend who would call me "Sol" and I called her Sandy. Her name was actually Samantha and she wanted to be called Sammy, but I was still trying to grasp the English words and I ended up calling her "Sandy". She didn't mind it at all, in fact, it reminded her of the beach she and her mother would go to on the weekends after church services. Once we were close, I also went to the beach with them. Sandy looked so happy._

_This is the worst time to say that she was never happy whenever she's in school or even at home. She never talks but there were subtle hints that everyone never liked her and would often call her a crybaby. In my eyes, she was a "Llorona" but she wasn't scary or mean. She was selfless and kind. She taught me how to write and the types of flowers. I will forever be grateful to have her as a best friend._

_But back on track, the only time I ever saw her happy, was when we went to the ocean or anywhere that isn't her home or our school. Her mother was kind like her, and she even took care of me whenever dad worked late. I see her as a mother to me, and she didn't mind. Sandy didn't mind it either, but she gets very shaken when we go to her place, especially when we go to her room. One time, when some of their relatives came over as we were doing our homework, Sandy froze. I was scared but she grabbed my arm and we hid in her "secret castle". We build it and played all sorts of games that are bloody with red candy sauce._

_I was confused about why we're in the castle when we hadn't finished our homework. She said the horrible monster is here, and that she had to hide from it until they go away. I was still confused but didn't think much of it, so we continued to do our homework while Sandy held her stuffed animal bear closer. I wasn't sure why, but she peaked outside and locked the door. I asked what happened, but she didn't answer as she continued to do her work while I just watched._

_Years went on, she's gone. I never saw her again after a few months before she took her life away. From there, I've never felt so low. I acted liked nothing happened, but my dad knew. Her mom knew. And I forced myself to look at her peaceful, unmoving face as everyone tried to tell me to look away. As I did, I looked back and saw her mom sobbing into her own hands as my dad quietly cried with his head down. What I didn't notice is Sandy's family. The aunts and uncles were consoling Sandy's mom, the cousins were desperately trying to put on a brave face but some failed. The grandpas and grandmas were just quiet, praying for her soul to rest easy in the heavens. I did too if I were honest._

_But I noticed one uncle that wasn't in the family circle of grief. And that's where it clicked. I quietly looked at him as he approached the casket and caress her face. But, it wasn't a friendly gesture. The mother looked up and demanded him to back away from the casket. He looked at her disapprovingly, saying how come I get to see her up close but he couldn't. Dad defended her by saying that I was touching her face. And he was right, but to be honest, I wanted nothing more than to hug her so tightly and cry. But I had to respect everyone and the deceased, which I did. But the uncle didn't care as he continued to yell at the mother, saying it's her and my fault that Sandy's dead._

_I was old enough to understand why Sandy called him a horrible monster._

_My dad had to force him to leave. I could imagine how Sandy's feeling about this. Her mom continued to sob and we all had to leave, but I stood behind as I just stared at Sandy's lifeless, yet peaceful, face and I covered it with the blanket before the other's could. I also placed her stuffed bear beside her, as my last goodbye to her._

_As everyone left, my dad drove her mom home while I just sat behind, thinking of something._

_So, you can imagine what happens next. I tracked the uncle down, grabbed a knife, and killed him. I would also like to thank my Janitor mentor for helping me how to dispose of things properly. I will be thankful for that._

_I came to her place again, the bloody knife in my hand. She didn't say anything, but her face said otherwise. I walked in, sat on the couch, and cleaned the knife as I told her nonchalantly, that I killed her uncle, cleaned everything up, and dispose of the body. She didn't say anything, and neither did I was we just sat down._

_Silence has been my thing from now on, whenever I visit her. We talk occasionally, but mostly just stayed quiet. She knew what I had done, and just nodded at me. We thought it was meant to happen, but not so soon. Dad didn't know, and he never will know. This is a secret we both will take to our graves. Even if I never go to heaven, I've done my own justice, whatever if God doesn't like it or not. I avenge Sandy, her mom, and everyone else. I would do it again._

_And I did. Remember how I mentioned the previous place I worked before moving here? I didn't necessarily kill him, but I gave him and his team something much worse than death. And I did it with just a flip of a coin. And NOBODY should know, but she did. Which is why I work here now. She knew what I was capable of, she knew what damage I could do. Yet, she gave me the same job in a different field._

_No one can know. No one can know. No one can know. No one can know. No one can know. No one can know. No one can know. No one can kn-_

_\- The Janitor"_

As they heard their alarm go off, they quickly signed it and shut it off. Their uncovered hands shook as their breath quivered. They sighed heavily as their hands placed themselves in their face. Another restless night, they thought as she put on their uniform and headed to the kitchen. It's their daily routine to make a small breakfast for themselves and Pyro. Everyone doesn't know, which is for the best for them and Pyro. It was the same; toast with some bits of strawberries, syrup, and link sausages with bacon. That was for Pyro. For themselves, it's just toasted bread with an apple on top with syrup. They never liked eating so much, but that isn't important.

They quickly cleaned the pots and pans before taking Pyro's plate and setting it beside them and then leaving. They were asleep, with their mask off. From what Bun can remember, no one has ever seen them without their mask. And Pyro never once reveal a bit of their face, not even with swimming in a pool. It is only in his room, but even then, Bun knew they occasionally wear in in fear or protection. Or because he had forgotten to put it away.

Bun respected their secret, just like Pyro respected their secret. Pyro had seen Bun without their face mask, and Bun had seen Pyro without their gas mask. But neither had told one another why, and they might never will. However, Bun trusts Pyro more with smaller secrets than anyone. Same with Pyro. No one else does. It's like they were in their own little world of fantasies that are filled with rainbows and bloodshed.

As soon as Bun closed and locked their door, they sat back on their table and set their plate down next to their papers. They had forgotten to put them away. How stupid can they be? How reckless of them.

They set the papers in the envelope, sealed it, labeled it as "#2" and placed it under the desk with the first envelope. They looked at their plate and their gloves. And they looked at their covered arms and hands. Some secrets maybe shouldn't be revealed by skin, they thought as they took a small bite on the toast. _"Maybe it's for the best no one knows about it."_ They ponder as they stared at the "golden" coin shining underneath the twilight sky.

They wonder if anyone would even find out. They wondered what could they possibly want to know? They know their name and their job. That should be enough to satisfy the mercenaries' curiosity. Why would they want to know? It's not their business after all. They have their own secrets and they have theirs. There's no reason to know. No one should know.

...They grabbed the coin and flipped it. Heads.

Yeah, no one knows.


	3. "Side to Side"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When asked to write their stories, the Janitor did not hesitate to grab sandpapers and squid ink. However, nobody knew what they’ll write. And they would never will, You, however, can. If you dare.

" _I'm not a superstitious person, but I do believe what's lucky and not lucky if that makes any sense. I don't walk under the ladders, step on large cracks, and I carry a rabbit foot in my pocket. But I don't believe in unlucky days or lucky numbers. But I do also believe in lucky objects. Like coins. I like collecting shiny things, but I love collecting coins the most._

_As a child, my dad and I weren't wealthy like most people, but I like collecting coins on the ground. Sadly I couldn't buy things with coins, but I didn't care. It was the closest thing to a pretty object than those fancy dolls I see in the markets. When I started school, I always see some adults flip coins when they're bored. So, naturally, I started to pick up that habit, but there was something wrong. I was flipping the coin perfectly, despite its 50/50 result of heads and tails. I wasn't dropping the coin on the floor. My mentor said perhaps it was luck._

_That word, luck and lucky. It had become my favorite word. It's weird, I know, but whenever someone says that word or when I say it, I smile a lot. Flipping coins became my new pass time. I like to count how many times I get heads or tails; either more heads, more tails, or even depending on how long I flipped the coin. Since I collect coins, I would always flip one coin a day. However, I found a coin on the ground near the factory my dad works at. It looked gold, but my mentor said it wasn't gold. It glowed and looked like gold, but it wasn't gold. I kept it obviously, but I always carry it for days. What's also weird is that I'm very lucky with this coin. For example:_

_I was picked up by an organization after years of losing Sandy. I was lucky that I had a job, but I wasn't lucky that they never paid me well. I still had my "golden" coin with me, but it never brought me happiness, just luck._

_I think it's a good time to write about my last job since I KNOW no one would even dare to try reading these._

_Or maybe not today. I obviously just wanted to write something nice for a change. I've been having memories of that horrible place, and how lucky I was to get out of it. And it's all thanks to my lucky coin. I even took someone's eye with it. Even blew their whole place up._

_I can still hear their screams._

_HIS screams._

_And my laughter._

_~~I want to relive that memory~~._

~~_No no no no no no._ ~~

_Don't start it. There's no need to go that far. I'm not crazy like them. But I am! But they don't know. And it better stay that way. No one must know. It's better this way. No one must know who I was in the past._

_Okay, I calmed down. I think I should stop writing. Maybe tomorrow I'll feel better._

~~_No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no._ ~~

_Be quiet, they're going to hear you. Stop laughing._

_\- The Janitor"_

They snapped the pen as they bang their hands on the desk rapidly. "Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it." They muttered, their voice shaking as they smeared the ink on their face. Their face carved a smile so wide, the mask couldn't even cover the corners. They groaned in frustration as they scratched their arms violently. Their mind was static as their body moved on its own. They got up and slammed themselves onto the wall on the right, acting as if they were held captive. In her vision, they were. The cold dread air, the darkness, the sudden fear, it's all coming back. He's coming. They kept slamming themselves onto the wall, not caring if some stuff from their shelf fell off.

They don't know what happened after 20 slams, but they woke on a rough couch. Oh great. They're in the main room. They were about to get up, but then they were stopped by Pyro, who sounded concerned. "Mmm! Mmm!" Pyro said, shaking their head, telling them not to get up. Bun lay back down on the couch as they looked around. It was still dark, so they assume whatever happened didn't take all night. They noticed Engineer and Medic were in the room as well. Oh great. They hated this part. The questions.

"You had us scared, buddy." Engineer said, his helmet not on his head, but kept his goggles on. They wondered if he also slept with those as well. "Pyro found you after the sound stopped. Thank god the door was unlocked." He said, sighing in relief. Bun's eyes shrunk as they looked at Pyro, but Pyro have them a thumbs up, reassuring Bun that everything has been taken care of. Bun relaxed a little, but they know what's going to happen next. Questions. "Jan, why were you on the floor with a vase broken?! There hasn't been an earthquake that strong here, so what in the world happened in there?" He asked.

Bun looked around before at Engineer, "I-I was trying to reach for s-something. I accidentally fell off the chair." They said, hoping that was a good excuse. It wasn't, sadly. Engineer looked at Medic and Medic looked at Bun, "Vell, then explain the bruises on your shoulder and the ink on your face." He said, raising an eyebrow. "I was reaching for the i-ink." They said, hoping that at least they understand. They looked at each other, obviously doubting the janitor.

Engineer sighed, "Okay then." He said as Bun sat up, Pyro still standing beside them, "Mmm mm mm mmm hmmmm?" Muffled Pyro and Engineer nodded, "Sure, don't take too long. Goodnight y'all." He said, yawning before heading back to his room. So did Medic, but took a glance before leaving. He had a strange feeling, " _Not now_." He thought.

Pyro and Janitor sat down on the floor of Janitor's room, mask off. Pyro was the first to break the silence, "You were thinking about it weren't you?" Pyro said and Janitor sighed, "Yes, and I'm sorry." Janitor groaned. Pyro looked unsurprised but worried, "You know, you don't need to think about it." "Yeah, I know. I keep telling myself that every night when I can't think of anything better. But it just sticks." Janitor said as they lay on the floor, "You were smiling when I found you. But not the smile you give me when you wash my unicorn plushie. It was 'that' smile." Pyro said, looking down at them. Janitor's expression was nothing but disappointment and frustration, "Was it that bad? Because if it was, I would've clawed my face off." They said, their voice a bit jokingly, "No, but you were kinda bleeding from the head. Medic took care of that." Pyro replied. "He didn't take any blood samples from me, did he?" "He would've if Engine and I weren't there.".

"...Do you think they'll care?" Janitor asked, "Hm? Care about what?" Pyro asked as Janitor sat up, "Nevermind." They said, shaking their head, "I already know the answer." Pyro looked at them sadly, "I'm sure at least one of them would care. But I do care." They said, smiling genuinely. Janitor returned the smile, "Not what I was saying, but thanks." They said, Pyro sitting up so Janitor can lean against him, "Well, it's your choice. But I'll be right next to ya when there's chaos." "Thanks, Pyro." Bun said.

\---Later---

The sun was barely rising as Janitor was still catching some sleep after a long night of emotions they cannot understand. Luckily, there's not much to do so they can sleep in a bit longer. 

A piece of paper lay on their desk with a folded envelope next to it. The envelope said "#3" and the paper said

" _Let's try again..._ "


	4. " --·  ·  -      ··  -  ··--··      -···  ·  -·-·  ·-  ··-  ···  ·      ··  -  ·----·  ···      ·-      ···  ·  -·-·  ·-·  ·  -  ··--·· "

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When asked to write their stories, the Janitor did not hesitate to grab sandpapers and squid ink. However, nobody knew what they’ll write. And they would never will, You, however, can. If you dare.

" _Let's try this again. I apologize for the previous letters. Like anyone even reads them anyway. But that's not the point. As I was saying:_

_I was very lucky to leave that dreadful place. How you may ask? Simple. A simple coin flip. Everything else was just a coincidence. They already had a bomb error and it has already blown up half of the place, I just so happen to enable it and also blow the other half. Not to be sadistic or anything, but it felt good. Like how Pyro felt when they played with fire. I played with hell's fire. It felt so good, to let out all of that pent up anger and wrathful desires to see them screaming in pain and begging for mercy. Mercy. Something they never liked. Unlike this team, they hardly think of kindness is the solution. For the most part, it’s a little true. But realistically, it would be nice to show some sort of empathy. Even the Medic here seems a little empathetic, if not only for the Heavy. Heavy. It’s still hard for me to look at him in the eyes and not be reminded of the monster I called my leader. My “boss”. This Heavy is very different than before, but it still hurts._

_Back to before, it was a wave of happiness that made me drove to torturing them and myself. Mostly at myself. Before all of this, I never felt emotionally connected to myself aside from family and the ones I cared now up in their own heaven. I never felt the happiness I ever had as a child, nor felt the joy of being a child. As much as it was for being the stereotypical broke Mexican family, we were working ourselves to the bone just to be above the livable income. I hated the fact that I was part of something I can’t control. That’s why I had to run away but when my dad quit his job and joined that horrible team, there was no other way. Even after he was crippled, I was still forced to work for them and I had to save not only me but my papá too._

_I hate not knowing what to do, I hate not being able to financially support us, I hate not being smart, I hate myself, I hate that I can never see the **LIGHT** in the darkness no matter how deep I go, I hate that I craved for those murderous deeds again, I hate being apathetic when all my life is nothing more than a pathetic sad story about a child born in a financially broken family where your mother died minutes after your birth._

_I think I hate myself the most for being addicted to the Sucker Sucker._

_I rather talk about that some other day, but to put in short, it’s like a very **VERY** painful but blissful sugar high that makes you unable to frown or feel pain. Like I said I’ll get to that soon, but not today._

_To be honest I dunno why I keep doing this. If this job makes me unhappy then I should call it quits right? No._

_1\. I’m still part of this stupid war by contract. My papá isn’t since he’s permanently crippled. (What I mean is that not even the respawn generator wasn’t able to bring his broken legs back.)_

_2\. This is the only job that has ever just throw huge chunks of money at me. We live in a capitalist country, I’m not letting that go to waste._

_And 3. I would be killed if I ever quit this job. Miss Pauling’s words, not mine._

_While I focus on the negative parts of this place. I can never not look at the positives. I get to see Pyro more often. I learned my “co-workers” traditions and stories. It’s quite amusing. Speaking of workers, as a Janitor, you get a lot of advantages. Like eavesdrop on conversations, get access to lots of weapons and chemicals, and not get caught hiding the body. It’s true from my experiences. You’d be surprised. Everyone underestimates the quiet ones until something big happens, but that’s the thing. No one knows. And can’t ever. Well, except her and Pyro. But everyone else, I think it’s better this way. Like I said, it’s not worth it. If anything I think they’ll just brush it off like nothing. Yes this is good._

_But, the scary part is what I can do. I may not be in the same place as the other crew, I still have those urges that not even coin flipping can help. There are so many things wrong with me, but they say I’m just like everyone else. Part of me believes that, the other just thinks I’m not like them. I can be worse than or not even like them. I just don’t know. Life is so weird. I’m weird. They’re weird. I guess I am just as bad as everyone else. I wish they looked at me the same way. They’re still unsure about me, but then again they’re unsure of Pyro themselves. Both of us are so weird. I think I’ll ask them if they want to hang out this weekend (Pyro, not the others). I have no outside work Pauling wants me to do, and no cousin’s parties to go to. Might as well take the time to be with your close ones._   
  


_Well, that’s all I have for today. Nothing too extra today, unless my breakdown is anything special. Well I’m off to work my butt off again._

_Wish me luck, Janitor.”_

As soon as they finished writing, sealed the paper and envelope, they got up and stretched. God their body still ached but nothing like coffee to help distract the pain. They just hoped nothing bad happens today. Or any day on the weekdays.


End file.
